Blue Mountain (Pack 1)

“Everything.”

Simon’s laugh caught in his throat when he realized Mitch was serious. He squeezed his hands so tightly his nails dug into his skin. The pain was the only thing keeping him from getting a visible erection.

“That’s what I figured,” Mitch said, apparently taking Simon’s answer for a no. “So I looked through your bag but it didn’t do me any good. There’s very little here: a wallet, some old clothes, a pair of sneakers, a pocket knife, and a lighter. Is this all you have or did you leave another bag somewhere?”

Looking at his belongings without his permission was invasive. Demanding to know if he had more things was invasive. But then again, bringing him into the house and bathing him while he was unconscious had been invasive and Simon had stuck around after Mitch did that.

“We’re never in one place for long, and we don’t always know when we’ll have to leave so we travel light.” Plus they’d been barely able to scrape up enough money to pay for food and occasionally shelter. More clothing was neither necessary nor in the budget.

“Who’s we?” Mitch asked quietly as he continued repacking the bag.

“What?”

“You said ‘we’—‘We travel light.’” He took a deep breath. “Who is ‘we’?”

The answer to that question was none of Mitch’s business.

“You’re nosy and pushy,” Simon said.

“Only about things that matter.”

“I’m the only part of the ‘we’ in your territory so I’m not sure why it matters.” His mother’s body was still in Blue Mountain territory too, but her soul was free and, he hoped, finally at peace.

“Not it. You.” Mitch got up and cupped Simon’s cheek. “You matter, pup.”

He didn’t think he had any hope left in him, but it seemed he was wrong because he desperately hoped what Mitch said was true.

“My mother,” Simon answered without realizing he’d opened his mouth let alone decided to speak.

“Where is she now?”

Simon pressed his lips tightly together to keep himself from saying more. He knew the path that lay ahead for an Omega who ceded all control to his Alpha. He couldn’t trust anyone, Mitch included. He had already shared too much.

“I scented her on your things.” Mitch pointed to Simon’s bag. “And my brother scented her at your campsite.”

Simon’s eyes widened and his heart raced. “He did? What does that mean? What will he do? Does he think I’m hiding something? Am I considered a danger? We didn’t introduce ourselves and ask for permission to be on his territory. Does that mean he’ll—”

“Shh.” Mitch wrapped his arms around Simon and pulled him close. He gently squeezed Simon’s nape, tugged Simon’s face against his chest, and held him tightly until Simon was surrounded by Mitch’s scent, heat, and strength. “You’re safe. My brother’s thrilled you’re here.”

Incredibly, Simon’s tense muscles relaxed and his breathing came easier, slower. “My mother’s dead,” he whispered, not understanding why he was revealing anything to a man he didn’t know. “I buried her.”

After a few moments of silence, Mitch said, “That’s what you were doing when I found you.”

It wasn’t a question, but Simon answered anyway. “Yeah. I’m surprised you didn’t scent her then.”

Mitch rubbed circles on Simon’s back and massaged his nape. “I’m usually more observant, but I was distracted by a different scent.”

Simon didn’t need to ask what Mitch meant to know the answer. He still thought the big man was unpredictable and potentially dangerous, but he also knew Mitch had taken an unusual liking to him. “I should make dinner,” he said, needing to find a way to make Mitch release him, because he couldn’t talk himself into stepping away from the comforting embrace.

“I’ll get the grill going and put your clothes in the washer.”

“You don’t have to do my laundry.”

Mitch leaned back, took hold of Simon’s chin, and tilted his head up until their gazes met. “You’re mine.”

Mine to care for. That was what Mitch had said. When was the last time someone had taken care of Simon? His mother had tried, just as he had tried to take care of her, but their lives were so unsettled and difficult that the best care they’d been able to manage was staying alive until, eventually, even that had been out of reach. Now his mother was dead, and he was left alone. Mattering to someone, even if only for a short time, was too appealing to resist.

Simon gulped. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, pup.” Mitch brushed his lips over Simon’s forehead. “You’re so welcome.”

He walked out of the room, leaving Simon aroused, breathless, and confused, but also unexpectedly content.

Simon had worked in many restaurant kitchens, usually cleaning but occasionally helping prepare food, but making dinner in the cabin was different. For starters, he was in a quiet, small home, not a crowded, bustling public place. Also, he’d be allowed to eat the meal rather than merely sneaking in scraps when nobody was looking. And though in many ways cooking dinner for Mitch was like his other jobs—a short-term way to get by until it was time to move on—he felt more of a drive to do it well. Simon wanted to prove his value to Mitch, which made no sense, but he refused to examine the reason for it.